Tagger
by achieving elysium
Summary: AU. In a world in which visual art - drawings and so on - is banned, Percy Jackson plays the dangerous role of tagger, a graffiti artist hunted down not only for his art but his "acts of vandalism." However, he's determined for the world to know what freedom feels like. With secrets on the rise and dealing with the new recruits on his team, there's only so much he can handle.


**Tagger**

_AU. In a world in which visual art - drawings and so on - is banned, Percy Jackson plays the dangerous role of tagger, a graffiti artist hunted down not only for his art but his "acts of vandalism." But he's determined for the world to know the beauty behind his art. With secrets on the rise and dealing with the new recruits on his team, there's only so much he can handle._

* * *

_CHAPTER ONE:  
[written June 16, 2014, finished June 17, 2014]_

:::

Percy twirled the pen in his right hand; leaning back into his rickety (but very comfy) chair, he waited for his fellow Campers to arrive. Stopping the pen in between his fingers, he set it down on the surface of the sleek table and stared at the empty chairs. There were twenty one of them - all cheap or old, salvaged from the streets or bought at secondhand stores. The table was fancier than them, made of smooth mahogany. It was a round table, designs etched all over it.

The room was rather large. The townhouse itself had once been something that had perhaps been beautiful. Now, it was overrun by vines crawling up the messy brick, the gate broken, giving the townhouse a rather haggard look. The windows were boarded up from the inside - a precaution, as no one wanted to be caught.

It didn't take long for people to begin arriving. He stopped drumming his fingers on the table when Reyna walked in. She'd grown a little taller than the last time he'd seen her, which was months ago. She looked great. Wearing a hunter's jacket over a purple top, she stuck to the darker colors as was mandatory. The thing that surprised him, though, was her hair. It looked as if she'd had it chopped short. One end was higher than the other, and the lowest point rested barely above her shoulder.

She grinned as she slid into the seat to his right.

"I got new ink," she told him, dark eyes sparkling. Percy resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air. He'd been pushing for his Campers to get tattoos since last year.

"Well," a voice called. "Let's see it." He looked up. Jason snapped a mock-salute, sitting on Percy's left and leaning forwards on the table.

Reyna turned slightly in her chair, pushing back her hair. On the nape of her neck rested her signature - a large, ornate letter 'S' with a purple serpent coiled around it. He ran his fingers over it, pleased. A sign of loyalty.

"I like it," he told her. She flushed, turning back around.

"I don't," Jason announced. He could see why - Reyna had her tattoo strategically placed. Her hair barely covered it. But that was a part of the fun: the danger.

He snorted. "Lighten up, Jagg." As much as Percy liked his fellow Camper (and cousin!), the boy was too cautious. He was usually a flyer, what the Campers had come up with for the term of lookout.

"Still don't."

"But that makes it all the more fun," he protested. Jason shook his head, sighing, the two silver earrings in his left ear catching the light.

"Don't what?" Thalia walked in, and following her were the twins - Alice and Julian, both waving and both wearing a cheeky smile.

"He doesn't like my new tattoo," Reyna offered.

"Brother mine, if you're so worried, then drag her to get it removed." A pause. "Like Percy would _ever_ let you do that, anyway."

He had his own tattoo just below his collarbone, on the left side covering his heart. It was a 'R' with the first vertical line of the letter a detailed, black feather. It was well-hidden, though still visible if he wasn't careful.

The talking only intensified as more people flooded in. The Campers chatted about anything and everything, like how is your dog or wow your hair looks nice or I heard they're selling acrylic in The Grey Zone is that true or I want food.

"Campers!" he yelled over the din. Everyone calmed down - well, not exactly, more like energy-filled but alert - enough for him to talk. "Welcome home."

Everyone cheered at this statement. They had all missed the family and freedom of Camp Half-Blood. And of course, so had he.

He looked around at the smiling faces and noticed something that he had not before. Piper wasn't here. The seat on the far side of the table was empty. He raised an eyebrow.

"Anyone know where Piper is? We can't start until all members are present." There were a few mutterings of 'no.'

"She's bringing a recruit, I think," Hailee called from the front. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. A new recruit. If they liked the recruit enough, they'd initiate the person into the Camp on probation. They would test the recruit again and again, in different ways, until the final decision a week after the first day of initiation, to decide if probation turned into newbie or if they were kicked out.

"A new recruit," he mused.

A few people waited to see his reaction. He shrugged, reaching up to adjust the grey beanie on his head. "Everyone ready for initiation?" A cheer rose inside the house. He focused on their newest member - Po, who had only joined two months prior. He was laughing.

That was the moment Piper decided to walk in. Following the girl was another girl, shy and afraid. He studied her in the light of the flames. She had blonde, curly hair tucked into a ponytail, a feather in it, and when she looked up from the floor, he noted that she had grey eyes the color of smoke. The recruit was wearing simple clothes - a holed sweater and under that, a dark top with jeans.

He profiled her: shy, the kind of person to shy away from the limelight, but the kind of person determined for success. That meant she liked the attention but wasn't used to it. She sought out comfort. But smart, definitely intelligent from the way she looked at them. He nodded slowly; he could work with a person like that.

She didn't seem too athletic though. That wasn't a good thing, but he kept an open mind. Depending on how well she worked under pressure, the athletic aspect would either make it or break it.

Piper seated herself, her braided, white-bleached hair at the opposite end of the table easily spotted. The recruit shifted nervously, looking for somewhere to sit, probably, and afraid of the way the Campers judged her silently, watching like he did.

They watched her every move, taking mental notes. Some sat back and talked in quiet voices with the person next to them. Some were nonchalant, though he knew they were watching. Some just kept quiet where they were.

"Stay standing, please," he said quietly. She stopped shifting and focused on him, giving him a once-over. There was a spark of recognition. She knew him, he supposed. Many did.

"You're Rave," she stated. Sitting next to Jason, Thalia pounded her fist on the table twice, then after a long pause, one time more. It was a quiet but effective way to show approval. He cocked his head to acknowledge the action.

"I know you," she said, when he didn't reply. She swallowed. "from- from the streets, I mean." She ducked her head, but Percy caught the blush on her cheeks. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and neck. Sure, people knew him and his work, but people didn't address it so directly most of the time. Though he had to admit some of that was his fault. He asked them to keep quiet.

"I don't know you," he said slowly.

"I, uh, my name is Annabeth. Annabeth Chase." He bit his lip. Someone down the way pounded the table once, paused, and then twice. The opposite of approval. Disappointment, too, settled on his chest. First mistake.

Everyone took that in.

"Annabeth Chase," he repeated the name, letting it roll off his tongue. "And what drove you to find us, may I ask?" He kept his tone indifferent.

"Um. I- I don't know." Two people pounded this time. He frowned.

"You don't know?" he asked, curious. An interesting girl indeed. People came knowing; people came with a goal and the one underlying reason: art.

"Tell me, Annabeth," he punctuated her name. "do you like art?"

"Yes. It's beautiful to me." Thumps of approval. He agreed. This was a turning factor despite her mistakes. That was why Camp Half-Blood existed. Because art was something that exploded from their fingertips, because art was something beautiful, because art was not to be silenced. It was something with a mind of its own.

Yes, this was good.

He leaned back, thinking. Seeing this, Ser took over. "Tell us about yourself."

"What do I say?"

"Anything."

"I'm eighteen. Uh, I live with my dad here. I sing. I like reading books. I'm into the arts in general. I'm in the school choir and work at a bookstore. When nobody's looking, I sketch on my own and hide it under a loose board. Um, I don't- I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

Thalia piped up. "You like adventure?"

"Yeah, I guess." He could hear her relaxing as the Campers asked her questions, getting used to the atmosphere and talking passionately about herself. Potential. There was a lot of potential for her.

The question-and-answer session ran on for another thirty minutes or so. They asked her about her personal life, about her art, about her school and her friends and her hobbies and every single little detail, even though it seemed that it wasn't important.

"That's enough," he said, cutting in. Talking stilled. "Thank you for your time, Annabeth." Taking a deep breath, he glanced around the table and met the eyes of each Camper. He made his decision.

"Someone will come into contact with you by tomorrow. Meeting dismissed." The girl sputtered her thanks over and over. People filed out the door, patting Annabeth on the back and congratulating her. Thalia walked next to him, taking his hand and glancing over every now and then with her electric eyes. He laced their fingers together and squeezed.

"Thank you," Annabeth said again as she followed them. He flicked off the electric fireplace and walked blindly. No one but the recruit panicked.

He found her in the dark, brushing up next to her and putting his lips to her ear. Her hair smelled like lemons.

"Don't thank me yet," he whispered in the darkness. "Good luck, Annabeth."

:::

A few minutes later, he was dragging her outside.

The teens spilled out into the streets and ran hard. He whooped and raised his hands. Others did the same. They were a living, breathing mass that moved together as one. Feet pounded against concrete. Noise bounced off walls. Laughter rang in the air.

He relished in it all. The Campers weren't just taggers. They did almost everything deemed "acts of vandalism." Sometimes there was a reason. Sometimes there wasn't.

Annabeth was trying hard to keep up with them. Her face was a light red, and she took in shaky breaths. He grabbed her wrist as they ran. Her heart beat wildly under his fingertips, her skin cool from the wind.

"Calm down," he murmured. "Steady breathing." She nodded.

"Where- where are we going?" she rasped. He shrugged. She looked at him incredulously, her eyes widening in alarm and heartbeat going faster.

"You don't know?" she yelled at him, incredulous, over the sound of pounding feet and mismatched breaths. He shrugged again, not really paying attention. He made sure there were no tails on them before speeding up.

"That's how it works!" he yelled back. His beanie kept his hair from flying all over the place. Adrenaline ran through his veins, and he whooped again. Energy coursed through him. Every crisp breath and practiced movement made him feel alive.

He lived for this. He lived for his art, for the Campers, lived for these people because he loved each one of them like they were of the same blood, because they were unique and different and beautiful in its own way.

"How does it work?" Annabeth asked, slowing down and trying to pause. He shook his head and pulled her faster. They couldn't afford to fall behind. Thalia fell back and looped her arms with Annabeth's.

"The person in the very front chooses. Whoever is out first gets to choose what we do," she explained loudly, her spiky hair pushed back. Some days, they just ran. Some days, they grabbed drinks or danced in the streets or went zip lining or did something. Everything was exciting. And dangerous. But mostly exciting.

"FREE RUN!" the person in front announced. He cheered.

"Free run!" people echoed. He laughed. They hadn't had the chance to free run in a while. The first person - Julia, of course, identified by the many bracelets lining her right arm - scaled the side of the building easily, stopping at a balcony. She leaned over, hair moving wildly, and extended her arms. Nyssa ran straight and then pushed off of the garbage bin, arms outstretched. Their hands locked, and Julia pulled her up.

It was a matter of trust. The two laughed together before using the balcony railing to get to the flat roof, where they ran and disappeared from sight. He glanced over at Annabeth, who was pale and trying to slow down.

"What are you, scared?" he called. She rose to the challenge as he'd expected.

"I'm not scared," she protested, hesitating. Her voice faltered towards the end. "This is stupid! Do you know how dangerous this is? We could die!"

"Come on," Thalia yelled, laughing a little at Annabeth's speech. "Live a little!" People ran up in pairs or trios or quartets. Everyone knew each other. Their trust and friendship melded them together tightly.

The wall approached. Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten. Five.

He jumped first, having done this a thousand times during his younger years, before Camp Half-Blood. Before art. Before everything, back when he was thirteen and rebellious. He was the kind of person who didn't listen, who acted and moved and did.

He launched himself onto the lid, jumping from the ground to the top of the lid to the side of the balcony, turning his body in the air and catching the bars. He threw his head back, sweat pouring down his neck and hanging there for a second before swinging his feet and fitting them between the thin bars. He climbed over the railing to safety.

"Rave!" his companion called. He leaned over, the railing pressing into his stomach and grasped her wrists, pulling her up. She wasn't heavy - not light, but not heavy - and he pulled her up without any trouble.

Looking down, he noticed that Annabeth had stopped, looking up uncertainly. The bar was uncomfortable pressing into his stomach, but he kept his arms out, waiting. Another test. They'd been testing her from the moment she'd walked into that room.

"Come on, Annabeth," he called gently. "You can do it." She shook her head, gasping for air.

"No, I can't," she cried, her voice rising with each word.

"Yes, you can," he insisted. "You're brave. You're adventurous... Well, now you are. Maybe you're scared and all of a sudden there's this whole new world, but you can do it. You chose to join us, Annabeth, and now we're choosing you."

"No, no, no. This can't- I can't... I don't know!"

"Hey," he called, his tone soft. "Do you trust me?" There was a period of silence. He'd asked this question a lot over the years. A lot of people did for some reason. He wasn't sure why, but people had done the same thing and stopped panicking and trusted him.

"I... yes," the girl whispered. He could still hear her clear as day from where he was standing.

Then she backed up a little and charged the garbage bin, leaping on it. He leaned further, hands twisting before they wrapped around her wrists. He hauled her up, and she gasped, laughing hysterically and taking in air.

He waited until they were all ready before they crawled onto the roof together.

And the three of them ran.

:::

The city was quiet for once.

He swung his legs back and forth like a little kid. His heels bounced off of the wall, making soft thuds every time they hit. Thalia sat next to him, staring at the sky.

Something creaked. The cousins looked down instinctively at the noise. Across the alley, a light was on and flooding the alley with light. Annabeth stepped out on her own balcony, dressed in a ratty old tee and leggings.

They studied each other for a few seconds.

"Goodnight," the girl offered. He just lifted a hand in farewell, and she went back inside, the lights turning off. He leaned back on his hands and stared at the blanket of darkness they called the sky.

The moon shone brightly, a sliver of silver in the sky. He let out a breath of air.

"I like her," he stated. Thalia leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her. Her hair felt strange against his neck, but the weight was familiar. He closed his eyes.

"Yeah. She's got it," she replied. "She has that something."

"Doesn't she."

"Hmmm," came the reply. "I'm glad Piper brought her in." He felt her smile. He hummed in content, his thoughts wandering to Jason, who had gone home with Reyna, who was probably in for a very sleepless night. Then his thoughts rolled over to Annabeth, sleeping a building away.

"Let's not regret it," he told her, absentmindedly tracing his name on the rough stone under his fingers.

:::

The next day, he watched Piper walk past Annabeth, bumping into her. She apologized loudly, helping to gather Annabeth's belongings and in a smooth move, slipping the paper into her binder. The girl left before Annabeth could react, leaving her standing in the school hallway, confused.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when she noticed the note.

Sliding out of his seat, he walked in her direction and walked past her, following Piper down the street. As he passed, he made sure to wink. Percy didn't look back at her at all.

He could feel her gaze burning a hole in his back and could almost envision a faint smile playing on her lips.

:::

_Tonight, 7:00 PM. Keep an eye out._

_Signed,_

_THE CAMPERS OF CAMP HALF-BLOOD_

* * *

Oh, shut _up. _I know the ending's shitty. Ugh, couldn't get that last scene right.

But I hope you like it maybe? Thanks for reading it, at least. I'd be really grateful if you left a review, or (shameless plug time) go check out my other sixty-some stories. Yayy.

Have a good one,

_achieving elysium _


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